


the end of desire

by erebones



Series: time on her side [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Accidental Plot, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Ejaculation, Gals being pals, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, OH OKAY AO3 I'M SORRY SQUIRTING ISN'T HIGHBROW ENOUGH FOR YOU, Someone stop me, Squirting, Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators, all boobs are beautiful, baze has Feelings and Emotions, brief mentions of scissoring, girl on girl lemons don't like don't read, how the FUCK is squirting not a tag????, just gals being pals and eating each other out, now i'm just being dumb, thick thighs save lives, tit worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 18:03:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erebones/pseuds/erebones
Summary: More sex, I don't know what to tell you. There also might be a hair of a plot in here. Somewhere.





	the end of desire

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks SO much to greymichaela for the beta!! She also did the previous one, which I forgot to mention. Also thank you to thewintermusketeer and everyone else who was riffing on the lesbian bazechirrut theme in #irrigated for giving me more ideas.

_Oh God, save me_

_I want an impossible thing_

_I want to be free of this ache, of this need_

_I want not to want anything_

—MUNA, _End of Desire_

 

Baze stares at her phone and tries not to be disappointed. The little [ _back later!!_ ] smiles up at her reproachfully, like it knows she’s being selfish. It’s not like she and Chirrut had _plans_ tonight. Chirrut has a life outside of Baze, a colorful and varied life that Baze doesn’t begrudge her even a little bit. Still. Baze is only human. And she’d _really_ been hoping to get laid tonight.

“What a fucking week,” she sighs. The overdramatic clatter of her keys against the counter is extremely satisfying. She goes straight to her bedroom and strips out of her clay-stuck clothes, leaving them in the basket for later. Naked, she steps into the bathroom and turns the shower on full blast.

Steam gathers around her in the small room, billowing clouds against her skin as she scrubs her face raw and cleans her teeth. She bends over the sink to spit, and flecks of dried clay dapple the porcelain bowl when she shakes out her ponytail.

She’s already starting to relax. Her shoulders slope and soften as she steps into the shower, as she lets the scalding spray needle her skin and pound her tired muscles. She rests her head against the tile wall and sighs.

Half an hour later, skin flushed and her damp hair curling down her back, Baze pads quietly into her room and opens her bedside stand. She tosses everything she needs onto the bed and follows. The sheets feel smooth and cool against her heated skin; she rubs a hand over her belly, up over her ribs, and sighs. She feels warm and molten, heavy-lidded, as she unfolds a clean towel neatly under her hips and parts her thighs.

The shower already loosened her up, got her going. She dabs a little lube on her finger and circles both nipples slowly, softening, feeling the electricity race down her spine. Chirrut likes playing with them whenever she can. Sometimes Baze has to shove her off when the stimulation is too much, but right now it’s perfect. She shuts her eyes and grabs the fleshy inside of her left thigh with her hand, squeezing. Her breath releases in a slow, shuddering exhale.

Chirrut’s fingers are long and slim, always eager. Baze teases herself with her forefinger, imagining it—Chirrut on her knees between her legs, exploring, head cocked just so to catch every gasp and exhale, every tiny, shivering moan. Baze grits her teeth and eases inside. One finger, then two, curling forward like the curl of her toes against the sheets. She can’t get as deep as Chirrut can, but it’s still good.

Her breaths come in faster little puffs, now—she braces her heels against the mattress and rocks against her hand, against the meat of her thumb. The lube lays forgotten on the sheets. Baze bites her lip. She’s perfected the art of masturbating in complete silence over the past few years—the last thing she wanted was for Chirrut to overhear and tease her about it—and she’s still relearning how to let herself go. She gives one nipple a determined pinch and chokes out a little cry.

Sometimes the first orgasm takes a while, especially with just her hand. But today, with Chirrut in her mind’s eye, her skinny legs and her soft belly and her sharp, irrepressible smile, it comes easy. Baze digs her free hand into the pillow behind her head and arcs her hips up, fucking herself on her fingers, and comes with a soft sob.

Clumsy, still riding the aftershocks, Baze fumbles for the vibrator and switches it on. Her clit is still too sensitive, will be for another minute or so, but she slicks the vibe with shaking hands and slides it in deep. It’s just a little longer than her middle finger, about the circumference of three pressed together, and the second lowest setting grabs at her insides and fills her up, demanding attention. She toys with the base, working it in deep. _Fuck_ , she whispers soundlessly, and then—quick, quick, it comes on faster now, and she bites her tongue at the next shuddering crest.

For a second it’s almost too much. But she bears down, and the overstimulation passes, peaks and mellows out into a soft, cloaking warmth that suffuses her entire pelvis. She thumbs the switch to the lowest setting and lets go for a minute, cupping her breasts and clenching around the vibrator’s intruding girth.

The door slams open and Baze jumps.

“ _Christ_ , Chirrut!” She grabs for the vibrator and turns it off, heart hammering a mile a minute inside her chest. “Haven’t you heard of knocking?”

“Sorry,” Chirrut says sunnily, not sounding sorry at all, “I decided I was bored and would rather—” She stops. That little familiar furrow deepens between her thick eyebrows and she cocks her head, nostrils flaring slightly. “Baze… what are you doing? It smells like sex in here.”

“What do you _think_ I’m doing?” Baze asks, peeved. Not entirely sure what to do, she slides the vibrator out and lets it plop forlornly onto the towel. She sits up and folds her arms protectively over her chest. “I was tired and horny and you weren’t here, so I took matters into my own hands.”

“Oh, Bazey. I’m sorry.” Contrite, Chirrut comes to the bed and reaches out tentatively until Baze grudgingly leans her shoulder into Chirrut’s hand. Chirrut strokes damp hair back from Baze’s face and leans close to whisper in her ear. “Let me make it up to you.”

Baze licks her lips. “I… I think I have a few more in me.”

“Perfect.” Chirrut skims her hands over Baze’s body quickly—a habit she’s acquired when she wants to familiarize herself with Baze’s state of undress—and smiles. “Already naked, hmm? I have some catching up to do.”

“I came straight from the shower,” Baze explains, suddenly dry-mouthed. She lays back on the pillow and watches as Chirrut strips out of her skinny jeans and hoodie. Underneath she’s wearing a tank top and a pair of boxer briefs with dinosaurs on them—no bra, as usual. Baze swallows the brief stirring of jealousy and reaches for her, grabbing Chirrut’s hips and hoisting her onto the bed. “What about this?” She tugs at the tank top petulantly. “I wanna suck on your tits.”

“Ooh, yes please.” Chirrut worms her way out of the rest of her clothes and spreads herself over Baze like a cat lying in the sun. Her thigh presses between Baze’s legs and stops. “Hang on. What…?”

“You’re kneeling on my vibe,” Baze explains, choking back laughter. “Here—”

“No, wait.” Chirrut snatches it up before Baze can rescue the poor thing and switches it on. Pavlovian, Baze’s internal muscles tighten and her breaths come a little quicker, a little more shallow. Chirrut sits back on her heels and grins. “Hold still.”

“Chirrut, for fuck’s sake,” Baze protests weakly. “You looks like a mad scientist about to—oh, fuck.”

Chirrut nestles the vibe right up against her clit and Baze goes rigid. Chirrut smirks. “How’s that? You want a little help?” She moves her wrist and Baze claws at the sheets. “Hmmm. I like the way it sounds. Does it sound different when it’s inside of you?” She drags it down, the smooth, slippery tip humming at Baze’s core, and teases her entrance. “Can I, baby? Please?”

“Yeah,” Baze gasps, and shudders when Chirrut pushes inward in one smooth, implacable slide.

The low hum kindles heat inside her body and Baze turns her face into the pillow, panting. Chirrut hums soothingly and presses kisses to her sweaty temple. “You make the loveliest noises,” she whispers. “Can I kiss you?”

Baze grudgingly turns her way and sobs into her mouth as Chirrut works the vibe relentlessly inside her. Chirrut laps it all up, devours her filthy, helpless curses and smiles when Baze shudders a third orgasm against her eager hand.

Chirrut switches the vibrator off without being asked. “Had enough?” she murmurs, rubbing soothing circles against her hip.

“Enough of the toy, I think,” Baze rasps. She unknots her tired fingers and drags them clumsily up Chirrut’s back. “Want _you_.”

“All you have to do is ask, sweet thing.” Chirrut leaves the vibrator where it is, something for Baze’s body to hold onto as Chirrut worms her way down between her thighs. On her belly, Chirrut peppers soft kisses to Baze’s inner thighs, uses her hands to soothe her with gentle strokes to her hips. The taut, scintillating thread of arousal slackens to a burning coil, no longer quite so painfully insistent. Baze drops her head to the pillows and sighs. Her trembling core relaxes.

Chirrut kisses her pubic mound softly. Drags gentle circles just beneath Baze’s navel with her thumb. Above her, Baze shudders, stretches her arms up over her head and breathes in deeply. The room is still and dimly lit. Chirrut kisses her again, closed lips to closed lips; down where the handle of the vibrator sits, Chirrut rubs a finger lightly against the wet folds. A little tease. A little _yes, hello, I haven’t forgotten._

The first touch of Chirrut’s tongue is so warm and light, so delicate, that Baze hardly feels it. Chirrut loops her arms comfortably around Baze’s sprawled thighs and nuzzles closer. She doesn’t bother holding Baze open, just runs her tongue up and down gently, then probes deeper, curling around the base of the vibe. She retreats just enough to suck one side of Baze’s labia into her mouth and withdraws slowly—the soft, wet sound of its release is cacophonous in the quiet room.

“Mmmm.” Chirrut rubs the tip of her nose up and down the same path that her tongue just traveled. Layers another soft, open-mouthed kiss just askance of Baze’s clit. “You didn’t shave today.”

“S-sorry,” Baze stammers, but Chirrut shakes her head, turning to kiss her inner thigh.

“No, it’s fine. A little bit of stubble is nice.” She licks her lips and smiles. “I like the burn.”

Baze’s face flames, but Chirrut doesn’t give her time to be embarrassed. She dives down again, more decisive this time—licks up with her tongue, and up and up, lapping up her slickness, her heat. Baze whimpers and squirms. Digs her fingers into the pillow behind her head. Chirrut hums her approval and tongues her clit softly. When Baze looks down she can see her—face lifted away to give her tongue room to stretch down, flicking back and forth, slow, careful.

Chirrut knows her clit is sensitive, especially after a handful of orgasms. Anything else would be too much, too intense, but not Chirrut’s tongue. Not her lips, when they close around that place and gently suck. Baze shudders and drags her feet against Chirrut’s flanks, encouraging her closer. But Chirrut just kisses her, kisses her wetness, and when Baze hitches a half-hearted warning, she doesn’t stop. Licks round and round in endless circles, applying just the right amount of pressure, until Baze comes in a flood, gushing all over Chirrut’s chin and onto the towel.

“Fuck,” Baze blurts afterward, breathless. Her face is on fire, and her chest—when she looks down, her breasts are rosy with sex flush, nipples hard and dark in spite of the lack of attention paid them. She reaches down and rubs them with her fingertips, and groans at the fresh bolt of arousal that plows a furrow in her spine. “Chirrut, please—”

“Again?” Chirrut lifts her head, mildly surprised, but she doesn’t hesitate—two fingers carve a path down Baze’s center and tug at the base of the vibrator, pushing in and out gently.

“Second wind,” Baze says, strangled, and she cries out when Chirrut flips the vibrator to its highest setting. “Fuck! Fuck, Chirrut, please, please eat me, Chirrut— _ah_! I want your mouth, baby, _please_ …”

Chirrut _devours_ her. Still gentle as before, but quicker now, she laps Baze’s clit in a steady rhythm, steady and gaining speed—the vibrator’s deafening hum swells like rolling thunder until Baze can practically feel it in the back of her teeth. She grabs the nape of Chirrut’s neck and rides her face, panting hoarse and desperate. _God, I love you_ , she thinks, and Chirrut knuckles the vibe just a little deeper and Baze _screams_.

She comes hard, endless—the waves roll through her without mercy, gripping her in their seizing rhythm as the ripples of her body ebb and swell again, a sixth orgasm following quickly on the heels of the fifth.

And then, like snowmelt trickling slow to water the mountain’s roots, Baze comes back to herself. She’s staring at the ceiling, open-mouthed, tongue dry. She licks her lips and swallows a few times, trying to get the moisture back into her mouth. Between her legs, Chirrut is nuzzling kisses to her sturdy thighs, the fleshy cut of her hip; one hand is down between her own legs, rubbing in slow circles. Chirrut’s face is wet. Even her eyebrows glisten with little starry droplets, and her cheeks shine with slickness. Baze cups her face and massages her neck apologetically.

“Sorry I grabbed you,” she whispers.

Chirrut smiles, turns her head and kisses the palm of Baze’s hand. “It’s okay. I liked it.” _Kiss_. “You’re usually so gentle with me.”

Baze gives a weak half-shrug against the mattress and pushes herself up to sitting. Chirrut removed the vibrator at some point; it lies on the damp towel, shiny and innocent, like it hadn’t just played a big role in some of the best sex of her life. “You deserve gentleness,” she says, wiping Chirrut’s face with a dry corner of the towel. Chirrut turns into the contact like a cat, humming and wrinkling her nose. Baze touches her pouty smile with the tip of her finger and Chirrut kisses it.

“I appreciate it. But I won’t break, you know.” Chirrut’s forehead creases and she stills the movements of her hand, squeezing her thighs around her wrist as she fights for control. “I—you can push me.”

Baze strokes the palm of her hand against the grain of Chirrut’s shaved head. “Do you want me to?”

Chirrut flushes. “Maybe a little.” She shifts, lifting her cheek from Baze’s thigh and sitting upright. Baze meets her halfway with a slow, syrupy kiss. Chirrut’s mouth tastes like sex, like _Baze_ —the knife-sharp intimacy of it carves a hollow place beneath her breastbone and Baze moans.

“Come here, then,” she whispers, coaxing Chirrut forward.

“Hang on.” Chirrut fishes around between them and produces the vibrator with a wicked smile. “Use this.”

“Chirrut, that was just _inside_ me!”

“So? _I_ was in you, too, all the way up to my tonsils!”

“ _Chirrut_!” Scandalized, Baze giggles helplessly as Chirrut shoves her back down, brandishing the hot pink toy between them like a bizarre kind of weapon. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I am not!” Chirrut pouts. “It’s not like you aren’t _clean_. You just showered. And we’ve scissored before, so our pussies have _definitely_ touched.”

Baze chokes at the memory. It had been a little bit awkward at first, and then it was just funny—they couldn’t figure out the right angle to get them both the right amount of stimulation, so eventually they gave up and Chirrut got herself off on Baze’s thigh while she fingerfucked Baze hoarse. But Chirrut was right—their pussies _had_ definitely touched.

“Fine,” she sighs. Chirrut crows and flops onto her back on the other side of the bed. Baze nabs the towel and does a quick wipedown before chucking it at the hamper and cuddling in close. “How’s this?”

Chirrut hooks a hand around Baze’s neck and drags her in for a kiss. “Mmmmmm. Better,” she murmurs when they part. Her lower lip is slick and shiny, her entire mouth reddened from eating Baze out. “I believe you promised to suck on my tits?”

Baze grins and ducks her head.

If Chirrut has a _thing_ for Baze’s chest area, Baze has to admit the admiration is mutual. She loves how they fill up the palm of her hand and no further, how they shake when Chirrut sits up to ride Baze’s thigh, or her fingers, or her mouth. And her nipples are the prettiest color: a pale tawny rose that darkens into mauve when Baze applies her mouth. Like now, her thigh eased between Chirrut’s legs to give her a little friction, her head bent low to lip and suckle at her breasts.

She pays them equal attention with hands and mouth. Rolls them between thumb and forefinger, lapping with the point of her tongue. When Chirrut sobs and grabs for her, grinding hard against her thigh, Baze retreats to a storm of curses, kissing the soft, silky slopes and the hard-boned valley of Chirrut’s sternum in between.

“Fuck you,” Chirrut groans, flopping back against the mattress in defeat. “I was _this close_.”

Baze kisses her chin in apology. “Could you come from just this? Just my mouth on your tits?”

Chirrut licks her lips, momentarily struck dumb. “I… maybe?”

Baze grins. “Wanna find out?”

A ragged breath. A nod. Chirrut lowers her head to the pillow and cups Baze’s cheek in one hand. “Please.”

Baze turns, kisses the palm of her hand. Such a simple thing, but she loves doing it whenever she can. Particularly in the middle of sex. It’s a tender, easy way to ground Chirrut and remind her of Baze’s presence, Baze’s affections.

She doesn’t say _I love you_ very often. Not because she thinks Chirrut doesn’t love her back, although Chirrut has yet to return the sentiment—more that Baze is afraid to burden Chirrut with the enormity of her feelings. They’ve been dating for a few months now, with relatively few issues, but Chirrut is still _Chirrut_ , still her flighty little chickadee, shining brighter than a galaxy and bouncing energetically from thing to thing like a pinball, never quite landing long enough to put down roots. So Baze is careful. She swallows the words down, swallows the vastness of the ocean and holds it inside her like a ship in a bottle, afraid that if she lets it loose, she’ll frighten Chirrut away for good.

Instead of using words, she applies her mouth in other ways. Baze strokes Chirrut’s ribs, her soft belly, carving paths of fire along her skin, sucks on Chirrut’s tits like it’s going out of style. She nibbles tiny butterfly-bruises to the creamy golden flesh, suckles each nipple in turn; she cups and squeezes with her hands, flicking with her thumbs. Though it takes a bit of effort, she pushes Chirrut’s breasts together and buries her face in the cleavage, moaning happily.

Chirrut writhes beneath her, cursing in English and in Mandarin—Baze’s vocabulary has improved by leaps and bounds in that respect these last few months, even if she can never use those words around her father. Baze persists, introduces a bit of teeth. Chirrut _hollers_. Her legs kick futilely against the mattress, her hands like claws digging into Baze’s shoulders; whenever she tries to rub herself against Baze’s thigh, Baze moves away just a little further until Chirrut is sobbing and twisting her spine, arching her chest further into Baze’s mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Chirrut cries. There’s a unique, keening pitch to her voice that Baze knows well. “Fuck _fuck fuck_ —Baze, oh my god, I’m coming, I’m _coming_ —”

Baze smiles against her chest and holds her through it. Chirrut is fond of announcing her orgasms, frequently and at full volume. Sometimes it’s a sham, or maybe just overzealousness, but Baze always knows, when Chirrut’s voice grows tight and high and desperate like this, that it’s for real.

Chirrut slumps, finally. Her entire body is shaking in Baze’s arms, her face damp with sweat. She licks her dry lips and reaches up, finger-combing the long, frizzy strands of hair back from Baze’s face to tuck them behind her too-big ears. “That,” she breathes, “was a motherfucking _experience_. Now will you _please_ fuck me with your vibe?”

Baze laughs and obliges. “Put your legs over my shoulders, sweet thing.” She grabs the vibrator and switches it on low. “You want it _on_ you or _in_ you?”

“On,” Chirrut says breathlessly. “For now. Want you to make me scream.”

“Mission already accomplished,” Baze murmurs, slyly, but she gets a comfortable grip on the vibe’s silicon girth and nestles it against Chirrut’s core. “How’s that?”

“More,” Chirrut says through gritted teeth.

Baze switches it up two more settings. Another two will be the highest—too high for Baze against her own clit, personally, but just right for a nice deep fuck. Chirrut requires a little less finesse.

“ _Oh_ ,” Chirrut gasps. Her fingers tangle harshly in Baze’s hair and she quivers, rocking her hips in little shivering motions against the vibe’s soft, plummy tip. It’s not dick-shaped, because Baze was weirded out by all the… _veins_ and things when she was shopping online, but the head is round and curved for g-spot stimulation, and it makes a good surface for Chirrut to rub against.

“Want a little more?” Baze asks. She grabs Chirrut’s thigh to hold her still and rubs the vibrator in slow, wide circles over Chirrut’s clit. Chirrut heaves for breath and holds tight.

“Just—just a little more, oh—oh fuck, Baze, _Baze_ …”

She comes again, more quietly this time; her thighs shake and her face blooms red, and she gives a little strangled _ah!_ when Baze pushes her thumb into Chirrut’s body to feel the last few tremors.

“So good,” Baze whispers. She kisses the crease of her thigh and drags the vibe down to tease at her hole, not quite pushing in. “You’re so good, Chirrut. So lovely.”

“ _Baze_.” Chirrut pants for breath and cups her cheek, fingers dragging clumsily against her jaw to her lips. Baze sucks her first two fingers in, swirling her tongue around them as she nudges the vibe back up against Chirrut’s clit. “Baze… hnng…”

“Can I fuck you with my tongue, baby?”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Chirrut rasps. “Do you even have to ask?”

Baze giggles and shoves gently at Chirrut’s hip. “Put your legs up a little. That’s it.”

With Chirrut’s knees propped up and spread wide, Baze loops an arm around one of her thighs to come at her clit from the top and bows her head. Chirrut isn’t a squirter, thank god—between the two of them they would never have dry bedding—but she’s still slippery with arousal against Baze’s tongue as she licks into her folds. Pubic hair tickles her nose and she presses in closer, gets her tongue in as deep as she can. Above her, Chirrut sobs and grabs clumsily at her hair.

Baze stops counting after that. Chirrut is an orgasm _machine_ when she gets going—she’s perfected the art of riding each wave to the next crest, like a surfer balancing on that delicate thread between flying and drowning. Eventually, she comes against Baze’s tongue enough times that her natural lubricant runs dry and Baze has to put the vibrator aside and come at her with just her mouth, soft and wet.

In that heady, subatomic space between orgasms, Chirrut is a trembling, lanky, unspooled creature, melting into Baze’s mouth, her voice withered down to gasps and tiny, unselfconscious noises. She keeps one hand on Baze’s cheek; the other fisted in the sheets. Baze slows the pace to match this new, wrung-out Chirrut. She eats her with long, gentle laps of her tongue, fingers her in slow pulses. In, in, never pulling out all the way, massaging her insides, letting Chirrut squeeze hard around her hand.

The last orgasm takes some time. Chirrut lays very still, legs sprawled as wide as she can make them, breasts rising and falling rapidly in time with her shallow breaths as Baze layers gentle kisses to her clit. She fucks her slow and shallow with her first two fingers, arced in a gentle _come-hither_ motion; her tongue licks delicately between her folds, from her knuckles all the way up to the apex of Chirrut’s labia where her pubic hair curls, dark and sodden with saliva. Each long stroke of her tongue ends on a gentle flick, and each time Chirrut quivers, a little gasp dropping from her lips.

Chirrut comes without making a sound. She’s flushed a deep red all the way down her breasts—her hand shakes against Baze’s cheek, and the clench of her muscles around Baze’s fingers is weak and fluttery, like the first few wet-winged struggles of a newborn butterfly.

Slow and tenderly, Baze withdraws. Wipes her fingers on the sheets, and her mouth on the back of her hand. She pets Chirrut’s thighs and waits for her to resurface.

“Bazey…”

“Yes, my love.” Baze resists the urge to bite her own tongue. Chirrut probably won’t even remember it. The _L_ word. Baze crawls up the mattress and wipes the sweat from Chirrut’s brow with a corner of the sheet. “How do you feel?”

“Mmmmh… like… my skeleton is just… _gone_.” She licks her lips and smiles blissfully. “I love… your mouth. Have I told you that?”

Baze winces and buries the stab of sadness deep. Down, down in the depths like an anchor. Out of sight, out of mind. “You’ve mentioned it,” she says, and smiles. She kisses Chirrut’s cheek. “I’ll be right back, babe.”

She gets out of bed on wobbly legs. She’s a little bit sore herself—she’d forgotten to think about it, focused entirely on Chirrut’s pleasure. She goes to the bathroom and wipes down with a warm washcloth, then rinses it out and wets it again, grabbing a fresh towel on her way out.

Chirrut is still unmoving on the bed. Baze drops the towel onto the mattress next to her and pats her thigh. “Did I break you?”

Chirrut smiles, eyes closed. “In the best way.”

“Good. I’m going to clean you up a bit, okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

Baze busies her hands and her mind with the task: a gentle wipe between her legs, then the other side of the washcloth to her face and under her arms, rinsing away the sweat before it dries. She pats her down with the towel afterward and moves to throw them in the hamper.

Chirrut’s hand closes around her wrist. “Wait.”

“I’m just going to throw these—”

“Baze. I said _wait_.” Chirrut’s voice is steel. Baze swallows hard, suddenly nervous, and lets both towel and washcloth drop to the floor as she kneels back on the bed.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

Chirrut’s frown relaxes. “No, Baze. You—fuck, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. Come here.” She tugs at her arm until Baze is forced to lie beside her, then wraps her arms around Baze like a small, bony octopus. Chirrut kisses her forehead and Baze blinks back the stinging in her eyes. “Sweetheart. Just cuddle with me a bit. Stop being so… _conscientious._ ”

“I… don’t know how to be any other way.” Dry-mouthed, Baze tucks her head under Chirrut’s chin and relishes the soft, intimate press of their bare skin. “Sorry.”

“Shhh. No sorries.” Chirrut pets her hair. “You’ve just given me the best sex of my life. So just… stay with me a while.”

Baze shuts her eyes and listens for Chirrut’s heartbeat. If she holds her breath, she can just make it out. _Thud-thud. Thud-thud._ Slowing, moment by moment, into a softer, sleepier rhythm.

 _I love you_ , Baze thinks. The words blister on her tongue, fighting for release, and she bites them back. _Not yet. Not yet._ Matching the rhythm of Chirrut’s heartbeat. _Not yet._

_Not…_

_yet._


End file.
